


A Wager (of sorts)

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, F/M, Fake Dating, Reserve the right to change rating at a later date, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22480792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: Head Boy, Draco Malfoy, and Head Girl, Hermione Granger, decide to settle their endless bickering in a wager... of sorts.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 163
Kudos: 579





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a little short multichap I’ve been plucking away at, full of 8th-year teenage drama. It’s unbeta’d, so please forgive me at being horrible at grammar.**

xXx

“Bullshite.” 

“It’s _not_ bullshite. It’s true. You forget how often I have to put up with _you_. I am able to withstand a great amount of idiocy and could do so for any length of time, really.”

“That’s your problem, you know? You’re so fucking hoighty.” Malfoy leaned back, kicking his expensive dragon-leather shoes up on the table between them. “You walk around this school with a broomstick lodged up your arse and your nose in the air like you’re better than everyone else.” 

Her lips parted, eyes rounding as she stared back at him. “ _ I _ think I’m better than everyone else? Merlin, Malfoy. You really are delusional. The things I have to suffer through…” 

“You think  _ I’m _ insufferable?” A loud scoff burst from his lips. “How about a wager of sorts, Granger?” His brow quirked, in that aristocratic, pompous way he’d refined over the years and Hermione bristled, eyes narrowing. 

Sharing these eighth-year duties with Malfoy had been trying at best; at worst it’d been downright torture. Even sitting down to do such simple things as finalizing a prefect schedule—a prefect schedule that  _ she’d _ already perfected—proved absolutely maddening. 

_ “A wager? _ ”

Smirk widening, his eyes flashed from charcoal to gunmetal. “Let’s set each other up. The Yule is coming up and we both don’t have dates.”

Heat twinged the tips of her ears and she sat up straight. “And how do you know I don’t have a date?”

He answered with a narrowed, unamused stare and she sank back down. “Right, so we both don’t have dates. Go on, find me a date. If I can make it through two weeks and bring her to the Yule Ball, you run Head duties til the trees turn green.” 

There was a reason that Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor, and those reasons were situations  _ exactly _ such as these. She was insatiable. Unable to back down. “And that’s the whole bet?”

“Not likely. I’ll do the same. I’ll send a bloke your way, and if you can bring him to the Yule and date him publicly for the next fortnight—I’ll take over.” She snorted and he continued. “I mean it! Obviously, I’ve been half-arseing it. Why wouldn’t I? But I’ll take over until Spring, as much as you’ll let me.” 

To be honest, she didn’t give two figs about him taking over her duties—she enjoyed them—but, she did give  _ many _ figs about backing down from a bet with Draco-bleeding-Malfoy.

Thrusting her palm into the space between them, her brows pushed together. “You’re on, Malfoy.” 

His tongue ran smooth along his perfect teeth and he winked. “Brilliant.” 

xXx

Granger had no idea what she’d gone and just done. Who, oh who, would he set her up with. Goyle seemed the obvious choice, being as bloody repulsive as she’d always found him. But then— _ eh _ —he’d gone and lost his baby fat and shot up six inches; his personality left much to be desired, but he was a hoot at parties and he knew how to make a witch laugh. 

No, not Goyle. 

There was Zabini? But… Zabini might fuck her. If she were a witch that was up for such raucous proclivities, which Malfoy was sure she was not.  _ But _ if she was, then Zabini would quickly find his way between her thighs. For reasons that Draco was happy to ignore, he quickly moved past his friend as a possible ploy in taking Granger down. 

_ Oh! _ There was that puss-filled Puff in their Advanced Potions class. Tittering with glee at the very thought that he would make for quite the stunning Yule date, Draco remembered how closely his personality resembled that of dry mustard. 

Then there was the issue of actually getting the dolt to even approach Granger, and seeing as Draco’s interaction with the bloke had been shoving in a broom closet fifth year, that seemed unlikely. 

Which is why Draco was scowling in the Great Hall, glaring at every passing male classmate that was of proper age. There were the actual options, that would cause him to  _ lose _ the bet: Corner, Finch-Fletchley, Macmillan, even Longbottom, as loathe as was to admit it. And the last thing Draco was about to do was set himself up for failure. 

His gaze dragged down the length of the Ravenclaw table, nothing promising. But then, there, at the end of his own house, with glasses stuck on the bottom of his nose and his quill scratching a mile a minute, was the most boring and droll bloke he’d ever met. Theodore Nott Jr. 

Truth be told, he was a bit mousy: small features and a slight frame. He didn’t care for Quidditch or girls or anything of the sort. He was as interesting as a wet mop in the broom cupboard, and even that might be a stretch. Smirk widening, Draco plucked an apple from the bowl in the center of the table and pushed to stand. 

“Oi! Malfoy! Done already?” Zabini asked, brows inching for his forehead. 

Teeth slicing through the skin of a perfectly tart green apple, Draco adjusted his bag on his shoulder and grinned. “Just getting started.” 

xXx

“He likes you.” 

“ _ What? _ ” 

Grimacing, Hermione wondered why all of her cleverness and wit couldn’t come in hand when it came to gracefully lying. That would make her life much easier; instead she got all the Gryffindor ethical crap that made her shite at lying, and thus, shite at winning this bet. And she  _ refused _ to lose any sort of bet to Draco Malfoy. 

The issue at hand was that Draco Malfoy underestimated her, always had, always would. Hermione Granger? Oh, she could handle just about any insufferable bloke for any given amount of time. Hell, she’d been doing it since September with her adjacent Head and she’d done it for years taking care of her best friends, for crying out loud. 

Two weeks and a dance with some idiot Malfoy picked out?  _ Pumpkin pie.  _

No, the real test at hand was going to pick someone who was obnoxious enough to drive Malfoy absolutely insane. If a witch wasn’t as clever as Hermione, she might pick someone a bit dull, a bit quiet, perhaps. But they’d be wrong. Malfoy could withstand the torture of a boring companion; the key would be choosing someone that would grate his gears to absolutely no end. 

Draco Malfoy, above all else, wanted to be seen as a Pureblood aristocrat. Who would tarnish that reputation easiest? She’d gone through the most obvious choices before finally settling on Beatrice Beaucomb.  _ Bea. _

She was a seventh year Hufflepuff, short, small, and busty. The reason Hermione  _ so _ adored Bea as a date for Malfoy was that Bea led with her tits. Oh, she sashayed here and there, hiking her skirt up a little higher, her buttons tugging a little tighter. She enjoyed pulling boys into broom cupboards and making all sorts of loud and scandalous noises once inside. 

And as much as Draco Malfoy wanted to be seen as a witches-man, he had a type. A standard. And being seen with Bea Beaucomb was exactly the opposite kind of attention he’d want to receive. She was perfect. 

“Wait,” Bea paused, dark brows pinching and full lips tugging into a pout. “ _ Draco _ Malfoy.” 

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione smiled. “Yes. The only Malfoy at Hogwarts. He told me in our Heads meeting last week and I brought it up to him that I might say something to you. See what you think?”

Bea’s pale green eyes shot over Hermione’s shoulder, staring pointedly at the Slytherin table. “Are you sure? Because he’s never even talked to me.” 

A fevered blush crawled up her neck as Hermione cursed her poor ability at lying once again. “Absolutely! He told me he was too…” Words failed her completely. Surely she knew a few…. Just one would do… “ _ Intimidated!”  _ she nearly shouted. “Yes, he just feels that you’re out of his league, what with his tawdry history and all.” 

“Rowena’s rack, does he think I give a shite about that? I’d climb that man like a tree given the first opportunity. Have you  _ seen him? _ ”

Eyes narrowing, Hermione couldn’t bite the condescending cluck of her tongue. Instinctually, she wanted to take it back. Wanted to tell the dumb bint to piss off and never mind because she’d simply been lying the entire time, anyway. 

But there was a bet. A bet she refused to lose— _ on principal.  _

“I think he’d like to take you to the Yule, but he’s shy.” Hermione grimaced; the last fucking thing on the planet Draco Malfoy was was  _ shy _ . Arrogant, smug, privileged, and fucking annoying?  _ Sure.  _

_ “ _ Shy?” The corner of Bea’s painted lips tugged up and her thick lashes batted. “Well, I can deal with shy.” 

An ill twist coiled in her belly and Hermione couldn’t help the disappointed glower that distorted her features. 

xXx

“Yeah, mate. She was asking about you!”

Theo’s steady gaze didn’t waver as he stared over his thick-rimmed glasses.  _ “No.”  _

“What do you mean  _ no _ ? She’s Hermione bloody Granger! Are you saying you’re too good for her?”

A watery snort pushed past his classmate’s lips and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, Malfoy. Don’t mistake me for someone stupid.” Snapping his book shut, Theo rose quickly to his feet. “Hermione Granger hasn’t looked my way in over seven years, and now she’s suddenly enamored enough with me that she is requesting that you—her nemesis—approach me to ask her on a date?” 

_ Fuck. _ Draco had forgotten the little snake had brains. “Okay, I see what you’re saying. And maybe I have my own reasons, but I’m telling you right now that if you ask Granger on a date to Hogsmeade this weekend, I guarantee she will say yes. Are you willing to pass up that kind of opportunity?” 

Theo’s brow flickered, and at that moment Draco knew he’d found his weak spot. Born Slytherin the boy was. There wasn’t a wizard in this school that didn’t want to be known as Hermione Granger’s, and Theo was no different. 

“What’s in it for you?”

“Barely anything, really,” he said honestly. “A few weeks off scheduling and saving my pride.” 

Nott’s eyes glinted and he collected his things from the table in front of him. “I don’t necessarily like you, Malfoy. But I was sorted to this house, same as you, and I’d be a fool to pass up a good opportunity, no matter the intent behind why it’s presented itself.” 

“So, we’ve got a deal?” Draco edged, taking an excited step towards him. 

Scoffing, Theo turned. “Absolutely not. I have no deal with you.” 

xXx

Quite obviously, Hermione loved the library, loved the smell of worn leather and weathered pages. There was a spot near the back, just before the Restricted Section that boasted a lovely stained glass window; when the sun filtered through it, a hazy kaleidoscope of brilliant hues would dance on the floor. There wasn’t much that could deter her from her beloved books, but too often, she’d be lost in thought, staring at the lights until the sun sank low enough to steal them away. 

That’s where her mind was today, idly staring at the golden and gem-toned shapes on the old carpet,  _ Advanced Runelogy _ perched in her lap. 

“Excuse me, Hermione?” 

A bashful voice pulled her from her thoughts and she blinked up at the newcomer hovering near the stacks. Theo Nott stood, bag slung over his shoulder and hands shoved in his trouser pockets. His chin was tucked, peering up through thick-framed glasses at her. 

Untangling her legs from under her, she gently closed her book and sat up straight. “Yes?” He didn’t speak, his lips folding in. “Is something wrong? If it’s Head’s business, I’m always available, or if you’d rather, I can hunt down Malfoy.” 

A bark of laughter burst forward from his lips and he waved his hands quickly through the air. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to introduce myself—”

Brows knitting, Hermione shifted in her seat. “Theo, we’ve gone to school together for seven years. Of course, I know you.” 

“Right, well—” The apples of his cheeks darkened and he took a step into the dappled light of the stained glass window. “I wanted to introduce myself more officially. Malfoy approached me with some half-cocked story and while I didn’t fall for it for a minute, I thought I might be able to help you. If you needed it that is.” 

A disbelieving sigh left her and she shook her head, staring at the Slytherin she’d never really taken time to look at before. He’d grown since sixth year, several inches, actually. Chestnut fringe hung over his forehead and his glasses were constantly being pushed up the bridge of his nose. But, he was quite handsome, really, in a quiet, bookish sort of way. A strong jaw and clear blue eyes paired with a nervousness that made her smile. 

Canting her head to the side, she said, “ _ You _ want to help me?” 

“Yes. Malfoy’s always been such a git and whatever it is that he’s up to, clearly it’s not under the ruse that you  _ actually _ want me to ask you to the Yule Ball. So, whatever you need, I’m your man.” 

Hermione toed the rug, all at once realizing what an awful idea this bet was if it put the heart of some unsuspecting peers on the line. “The last thing I’d want is to lead you on or waste your time or anything.”

Another loud guffaw filled the room and a harsh  _ Shhh _ echoed from Pince’s desk. Covering this mouth, Theo stepped closer to her, falling into the chair across from her. “You may have misunderstood. You aren’t exactly my type.” 

A fevered blush inched up her neck, stretching to the tips of her ears as shame pulled at her features. “Oh, well… of course, not. I only meant—”

Warm hands shot out, covering hers and his eyes rounded. “No, no! I just think your friend, Potter, maybe up my alley, Granger. Always fancied him, if I’m honest. But I am most decidedly alright with helping you pull one over on Malfoy.”

Slow realization dripped over Hermione’s features and her lips bent up in a smile. “Oh, you wonderful, wonderful Slytherin.” 

xXx

Sweat collected on Malfoy’s brow as he rushed down the corridor, searching for her blasted door. Over his shoulder, he could hear the soft tittering giggle of that ridiculous little twit and he  _ knew _ she was coming for him. He’d not been able to dodge her for two days now. 

There, just past the statue of a dozing lion, was Granger’s door. Ripping at the handle with far too much haste, he shoved it open and nearly fell over the threshold. Safely inside, he turned, pressing his back against it for good measure, as if the witch in question might try to barrel through with sheer force. 

Panting, he let his head fall back, only righting it at the sound of his adversary chuckling from across the room. “Hello, Malfoy. How is your Saturday?”

Malfoy pushed away from the door, glowering as he made a wide circle around her as though she was some dangerous animal, noting her sleep shorts and loose-fitting tee. “Are you certifiable?”

Ticking her chin to the side, her amber eyes lit from within. “In what field? I have several accreditations.”

“ _ Insane _ . Are you certifiably  _ insane?  _ What on earth would possess you to set that witch on me? She’s insatiable.” 

“ _ You don’t like Bea?”  _ Hand flying to her chest in mock horror, Granger’s jaw fell open. _ “ _ She’s everything I thought you wanted in a witch.” The tip of her tongue darted out, curling around the sharp point of her canine, brow arching. “She’s even a Pureblood.” 

A growl rumbled deep in his chest and Malfoy stepped closer into her. “You want to play like that, Granger? You know quite well what being seen with Bea Beaucomb will do to my reputation. You’re playing dirty.” 

An unfamiliar smirk curled her lips and she shrugged. “You could always quit. Save that precious ego and your fat head.” Her fingers slid through his hair and for a moment he almost leaned into the gesture, until she began roughing up his carefully styled locks. 

“I don’t quit,” he said, batting at her until she was retreating to her sofa near the window. 

“Well, then don’t. I, on the other hand, am seeing Theo this afternoon in Hogsmeade. I look forward to an easy schedule after the Holidays, Malfoy. Hope you’re ready to work.” 

Baring his teeth and muttering a string of incoherent obscenities, Draco turned. If Granger wanted to play it that way, well, she had no idea what she was getting himself into. 

xXx

Strolling into Hogsmeade, Hermione’s conversation with Theo was easy. Truth be told, he was quite a pleasurable companion, well-read and insightful, the conversation flowed smoothly from recent books they’d discovered and highlights of their years at Hogwarts. 

Idly, she wondered if maybe Malfoy hadn’t understood the rules to their little bet. If he wanted to pick someone horrible for her, Theo was far from the worst choice. Hell, had he picked Goyle or Zabini she might have tossed in the towel right then and there. 

“Maybe the bookstore?” Theo asked, turning to her with brows held high. “Then a butterbeer? Or tea if you prefer.” 

“That sounds absolutely lovely, Theo,” she said, curling her arm around his and bouncing into the small village with a renewed vigor for tormenting Draco and a new friend. 

xXx

“It’s a bit cold…” 

Sneering over his shoulder at the small witch who’d chosen a skirt and no bloody cloak for an early December jaunt to Hogsmeade, Draco found his patience thin. He could offer her his cloak, his jumper at the very least, but he cringed to think of her nausea-inducing perfume ruining his fine clothing. 

“Cast a warming charm, then.” 

Sighing, Bea crossed her arms, shoving her bust  _ more _ into view. “You know, I don’t need to be here, Malfoy. There are a lot of wizards who enjoy my company and you don’t seem to be one of them. So maybe I ought to go and  _ find _ one of those wizards.” 

_ Fuck. _ He’d forgotten about this part of their little bet, about having to actually keep the witch in question on his arm for two weeks and through the Yule. 

His hand shot out, wrapping his long fingers around her wrist. “You’re right,  _ Bea.”  _ Bile shot into the back of his throat at her name on his lips. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

Stepping into her, he noticed the gooseflesh covering her cleavage and arms and with a long-suffering grimace, he shrugged from his cloak and offered it to her. 

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest,” she cooed, closing it tightly around her and then pressing her body into his. 

He bristled and turned back to study the cobblestone walk through the center of the village. His gaze caught on Granger and Nott, his arm slung over her shoulder as they exited the bookshop and made for the Three Broomsticks. Something altogether unfamiliar and unwarranted twisted in his belly at seeing the two of them. 

“Interest you in a butterbeer, Bea?”

xXx

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this silly little 8th-year soapy drama. I’ll be back in a few days with an update!**

**As mentioned, this is un-beta’d and I’m rubbish at grammar, so please forgive any glaring errors. If anything is truly horrendous, please feel free to let me know!**

**Thanks to MCal for Alpha’ing this and MD for her prompt!**

**Would love to know your thoughts!**

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was on her second Butterbeer. The foam delightfully tickled her nose as she grinned across the table at Theo. “So, you’ll really accompany me the Yule? I feel like it’s an awful imposition. Surely, there is someone else you’d rather go with.” 

“No one who would want to go with me,” he shrugged, draining the last of his drink and settling back. “It’s alright. Five more months and I’ll be out of here; I can hardly wait.” 

A sad realization settled over her as she realized that not only had she never paid much mind to Theodore Nott, and even worse, that perhaps no one did. She couldn’t remember seeing him with anyone all these years and her heart pained at what a sad existence he must have within these walls. 

“Say,” he continued, “what kind of arrangement is it that you and Malfoy have?” 

Rolling her eyes, she tucked her ankle under her thigh and leaned forward conspiratorially. “We had to pick someone for the other to date for two weeks and bring to the Yule. Then we get out of Head duties for the next few months. Not that I’d ever let him do them, of course; it’s more of a pride and principal sort of wager, I suppose you could say.” 

“He’s watching you know.” Theo smirked, leaning forward towards her. The tendon in her neck jumped; she was just about to snap her head to the side when Theo’s gentle fingertips caught the underside of her chin and kept her steadily looking at him. 

With round eyes, Hermione loosened a sharp breath. Theo shook his head. “Don’t look. He wants you to look.” 

Impossibly soft lips pressed into hers and for a fraction of a moment, her eyes widened further before then fluttering closed. He was either very straight, a very good kisser, or a  _ very _ good liar. He held her like she were fragile but his lips moved like she were unbreakable. Embarrassingly enough, she actually started kissing him back, lost in the flutter and fire of new lips, that it wasn’t until she was kissing his teeth that she was brought back to the present. 

When she pulled back, he was grinning, hands drifting from her chin. She gulped once and sat back in her booth. 

Theo ran his tongue along his teeth and traced the lines of the table with his forefinger without looking up at her. “That’ll get him, Granger.” 

“Get him?” she squeaked, still reeling. 

“Make him jealous. That’s what this is all  _ really _ about isn’t it?” 

The tips of her ears flamed and she sucked in a hard breath through her teeth. “Absolutely not. The wager—”

“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s hard to lie to a Slytherin. You ought to get better if you’re going after Malfoy.” 

With those words hanging impossibly between them, her gaze finally drifted to a booth on the far side of the room, housing Bea Beaucomb and her beau, who was positively seething. 

xXx

“My family wanted me to head to Beauxbaton’s when that whole mess started; I have family in France, you see.” 

It took all his strength not to glower and seethe at the twit under his arm. Two weeks was too bloody long. She was insipid. 

“Really? How interesting.” He nodded, craning his neck to eye Granger leaning excitedly across the table towards Theo. What on earth could she find so interesting in that toe? He was a wet blanket on his best days. 

But then, in the most infuriating turn of events, that slimy fucking snake leaned in towards her and kissed her.  _ Snogged her. _ Hermione Granger. 

Blood boiling in his veins, Draco’s grip tightened painfully around his glass and as much as he wanted to look away, he couldn’t. Bea prattled on, unable to stop the verbal spew tumbling freely past her lips and Draco heard not a single word. 

After what was honestly an inappropriately long time spent snogging in public, their lips parted and Draco finally felt he could breathe again. It’s not that he fucking  _ cared _ . Absolutely not. It was Granger, for crying out loud. She was barely tolerable and a constant pain in his arse for the better part of a decade. 

So, no. It’s not that he cared that she seemed to be getting on with Theo-fucking-Nott, because  _ of course, _ she would, he was just as bloody awful as she was. It was more that he was going to lose this damn bet—yes, that was all. 

When Granger’s eyes drifted over to his, her cheeks still twinged pink from her snog, his eyes narrowed and the arm slung around Bea’s shoulder’s tightened. 

Bea, being the completely ridiculous witch she was, was so lost in the attention of being at Draco’s side, that she keened and nestled in.  _ Good. _ Granger’s chocolate-coloured eyes flashed and with a resolute shake of her head, turned her attention back to Nott. 

Malfoy was going to need to up his game. 

xXx

After a perfectly lovely day in Hogsmeade, Hermione spent the rest of the day curled in her bed, re-reading the week’s assignments before drifting off into a late afternoon nap. Dreams of soft lips and grey eyes were violently disrupted as two hands shook her awake. Blinking up into the dim light of their dormitory, she found a cascade of fiery hair all around her and clamored back with a yelp. 

“Merlin, Ginny!” she gasped. “Do you always wake people like that?

A smirk spread over her friend’s lips and she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Only when the person is clearly having inappropriate dreams and is refusing to wake.” 

A heated blush bloomed on Hermione’s cheeks and she jolted upright, now decidedly awake. “What was so important that couldn’t wait then?”

“It’s Trevor, he’s sick.” 

“Trevor?” 

A long, exasperated sigh pushed forward and Ginny moved towards her trunk, rifling through its contents as she spoke. “Trevor, the Hufflepuff prefect? He’s sick, Black Cat Flu, they think. He’s in the infirmary and most likely missing out on exams as well.” 

“Erm, okay.” Hermione shifted, wondering if maybe she needed to pop by and give him a card or something.

Ginny’s eyes snapped up, leveling Hermione with a pointed stare. “ _ He’s one of the prefects on patrol tonight, Hermione.  _ Someone needs to fill in for him and it will  _ not _ be me, I did patrol on Thursday and I’m going to that Ravenclaw party tonight. Anyway, Sprout popped into the common room and wanted me to let you know they needed a replacement.” 

Groaning, Hermione tossed her legs over the side of her mattress and rubbed at her face. “Brilliant. Guess that’s me, then.” 

“No! You should come to the party—make someone else do it!” 

“Right, because who won’t be jumping at the opportunity to do last minute patrols on a Saturday night when there is a house party happening?” 

Ginny pouted but quickly moved on, changing for her evening and begging that the head girl please not interrupt the happenings in Ravenclaw tower. Hermione made no promises. 

Under the warmth of her winter cloak, Hermione descended the stairs to the mouth of the Great Hall. She’d checked the schedule before she left and she was meant to be patrolling with the female fifth-year prefect from Slytherin, some mousy girl named Piper who was far too full of herself. 

Piper was late. 

Grumbling to herself, Hermione paced back and forth until she heard the telltale sound of impending footsteps. Whipping around, fully prepared to spit her well-rehearsed verbal lashing on the importance of punctuality, Hermione’s lips parted but no words came. That’s because Draco Malfoy was stomping in her direction sporting an unamused glower. 

“Let’s go; I’m fucking exhausted.” He didn’t pause, instead marching right past her up the corridor. Try as she might, words failed her spectacularly and she stayed rooted to her spot until he turned, gesticulating wildly at her. 

Quickly catching up, Hermione was near breathless as she matched his stride. “What are you doing here? I’m meant to be patrolling with Piper.” 

“Oh, you know how I just  _ adore _ spending this one-on-one time with you, Granger. I nearly jumped at the opportunity to spend my Saturday night bickering with you. Why do you  _ think _ I’m here? Piper’s got the Black Cat Flu.” 

“No, Trevor does,” she argued, clutching her cloak tighter as they quickly rounded a corner. 

“ _ No _ —” His tone had a horrible mocking edge to it and if she had a moment to think, she’d chastise him for it. As it were, she barely had a chance to breathe as he picked up an impossible pace. “They both do. They’ve been snogging during patrols for weeks, everyone knows that.” 

Nose wrinkling, Hermione’s lips parted, ready to state that quite clearly  _ everyone _ didn’t know that because  _ she _ didn’t know that but he continued on. “The entire fucking fifth year is catching Black Cat like it’s the plague and I, for one, am not happy. All of our prefects will be dropping like horse-wing flies in the weeks before Holiday and I don’t need the extra workload.” 

A watery snort rumbled in the back of her throat and she rolled her eyes as they quickly jaunted down the stairs. “First, you don’t do any work, please don’t do me the dishonor of pretending you do. And second—” She stopped as the reached the landing, breathing heavily. “Can you slow the hell down? This isn’t a race; we have to be out here until eleven regardless what pace you go at.” 

Finally, Malfoy stopped, hands coming to rest on his hips as he reeled on her. “What are you playing at with Theo, Granger?” 

She huffed, taking a quick step back as she studied the hard edge to his face. “What?”

“You heard me:  _ what are you playing at?  _ Because I know Theo Nott and he has all the personality of a wet fucking mop and I saw you two snogging. So something is bloody happening and I demand to know what it is.” 

“You  _ demand _ ?” She scoffed, regaining her footing and taking a few steps towards him. “I don’t exactly understand what you think is so awful about Theo. He’s well-read, charming, handsome, as well. You couldn’t have picked a lovelier companion for me; I should thank you.” 

The space between his pale brows wrinkled and he, too, took a step towards her until they were sharing the same small space. “Do you like him or something?” His voice was acidic and the deep grey of his irises hardened. 

Suddenly, she was far too aware of him, of the warmth emanating from his chest and the delicious scent of his cologne wafting through the air. She gulped. “Do you care?”

At that, his features fell dejectedly, his lips parting as his gaze roved her face. “I—no, of course not.” 

_ Liar. _ She grinned, wagging her eyebrows and then stepping past him. “You seem jealous, Malfoy. It doesn’t look good on you.” 

Padding down the stairs, she made it to exactly the fourth step before her cohort was following quickly on her heels, making disgruntled little noises she was sure she’d never heard him make before. “Jealous? Me?  _ Hah! _ Don’t make me laugh.” 

Catching the flesh of her bottom lip between her teeth, Hermione swallowed her laughter and pressed onward. 

xXx

_ Jealous. _

What a fucking preposterous idea. Draco didn’t get jealous, it simply wasn’t becoming of a Malfoy. If he wanted something, he went after it. End of. 

And he simply didn’t want Granger; who would? 

Sure, she’d filled out nicely, her body taking on a far more feminine shape than her boyish frame from years past. Her hair was nicer too, softer, like he wanted to run his fingers through it and see it draped across his bed. And he didn’t mind her laugh, if he was being honest, because it usually meant she wasn’t being a total in pain the arse and he supposed the way she threw her head back was quite lovely. 

But, no. He didn’t  _ fancy _ her, and he certainly didn’t give two figs if Theo Nott fancied her—the fucking wanker. 

Since her ridiculous accusation that he might be jealous—which he was not—he’d zoned out entirely, following the vague shape of her in his vision as he pondered just  _ how  _ ridiculous it was. He was brought back to the moment as his chest crashed into her back and they both went tumbling to the ground. 

“Merlin— _ fuck _ , Granger! What the hell are you doing stopping in the middle of the corridor like that?”

“ _ You _ watch where you’re going, Malfoy!” She groaned, cradling her knee to her chest as she rolled onto her back. “Ow, you big dolt. You messed up my knee.” 

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Let me see—” she turned quickly away from him, as though he was going to chop her leg off if given the opportunity and he glowered in return. “Would you stop being so bloody combative? It’s annoying.” 

The tip of her perfectly pink tongue darted out, her nose wrinkling petulantly as she opened her cloak. The silly swot had worn her school skirt on patrols and there was a nasty gash in her knee cap; blood flowed freely from the wound, causing his stomach to churn. 

“Right. Your knee is all fucked up…” he assessed quickly and then stood, distancing himself from the smell. 

“ _ Brilliant! _ Thank you so much for that! Help me stand, you idiot.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco held out his hands. Her dainty fingers slid into his palms and his eyes widened into saucers at the gentle touch. Hoisting her to feet, he was about to make a speedy getaway, until her knee buckled and she hissed, her grip landing on his arms as he rushed to stabilize her. 

“Steady there,” he mumbled from the corner of his mouth, reveling in secret at the feeling of her pressed up against him. 

“Fuck, it really hurts, Draco.”  _ Draco _ . “I think I need to go to the infirmary.” 

“Okay.” Realization dripped slowly over him as he began to understand his role in all this. He’d need to walk her. Gulping, he slid his arm under her cloak, wrapping an arm around her waist, and shouldering her weight a bit. 

They made it a few steps, Granger hissing with each one before he stopped. “This is going to take all bloody night. Let me levitate you—” 

She rolled her face towards him, eyes narrowing into slits. “Obviously, that’s not going to happen.” 

All of a sudden, his throat felt far too tight and sweat coated his palms as they stared at each other. “I’ll have to carry you,” he managed, his voice barely audible. 

She inhaled sharply, lips pressing shut as she considered it. With a hard swallow, she acquiesced. “I suppose if it’s that or having you levitate me through half the castle and probably giving me a concussion, I guess I have no choice.” 

Part of him hoped that she might refuse. It was a weird night as it was, and carrying her pressed against him would escalate it to the point of absurd. But alas, there were few options. Fortifying himself with a hard breath, he reached down to sweep the back of her knees, letting her weight fall into his arms as he lifted her. 

She was lighter than he’d imagined, which was a wonderful thing given they still had two flights of stairs and a very long corridor before the infirmary. 

“Wait!” She all but shouted, pulling her wand free. There was a brief moment where Draco was quite sure he was about to be hexed, but instead, she cast a featherweight charm on herself and the task of holding her became easier still. 

Nodding, he began walking, ignoring the feeling of the soft skin of her thigh. She shifted in his arms, before growling to herself and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

A smile threatened to split his features as he peered down at her with an arched brow. 

“Shut it, Malfoy. I can’t just let my arms dangle in this position.” 

Her face was too close. It was bothering him. And he most certainly didn’t like the smell of jasmine and parchment that seemed to billow off her skin, assaulting him with its pungency. And, fuck it all to hell, but he detested the way she yawned and rested her head on his shoulder, wincing when he jostled her. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“S’okay.” 

They continued in silence for a bit, finally climbing the last staircase and turning down the final corridor to the infirmary. 

“You and Bea seem to be getting along well,” she said after a while.

Draco’s brow pinched. “That’s a bit of a stretch. She’s deplorable.” 

“She really is, isn’t she?” A soft rumble of laughter shook her and she fidgeted once more, her breasts brushing up his chest and driving him fucking insane. “We could call the whole thing off if you wanted.” 

A streak of hope burned bright in his chest and he stole a peek at her, cheek resting in the hollow of his shoulder and he could feel her fingers fiddling behind his neck. “Jealous, Granger?” 

“Hah!” She barked, turning her face up to his. “If that isn’t the most ridiculous… “ Her gaze caught on his lips, now dangerously close to his, and she gulped. “Ridiculous thing I ever heard.” 

“If you’re worried about losing and need to call off the bet, just say so.” He smirked, fingers curling tighter around her thigh and ribs where he held her. 

Reason seemed to return to her, and she blinked a few hard times before clearing her throat.  _ “I’m _ not worried about anything, Malfoy. You forget how well things are going with Theo and I.” 

Snorting, Draco rolled his eyes and continued through the doors of the infirmary. “He’s a prat and he’s lucky I don’t beat the stuffing out of him.” 

Madame Pomfrey came out in a flurry, her wand held high and glowing softly. “Mister Malfoy! Put her down—no, not there! Over here. What on earth happened?” 

Quickly obliging, Draco tried his best to ignore the smug smile forming on Granger’s lips. Pomfrey continued fretting before bustling off to grab something from her stores. 

“I thought you weren’t jealous.” There was something annoying about the edge to her voice and he narrowed his glare at her. 

“What makes you think I am?” 

“Well, you just threatened to beat the stuffing out of my boyfriend—”

“ _ Boyfriend!”  _

Her fingers waved through the air. “Semantics, Malfoy. Semantics.” 

She was stitched up and healed within five minutes; it’d taken him longer to haul her tiny arse up here than it did to fix her and they were soon walking back through the doors, this time side by side. 

“I think we can just call it good for tonight, what about you?”

Jamming his hands in his trouser pockets, Draco managed a sharp nod as he turned for the dungeons. 

“Oh, and Draco!” she called when he was a handful of steps away. Turning, he didn’t stop, now retreating slowly backward as he arched a brow in her direction. “Thank you—for helping me. It was decent of you. I’m starting to think you’re not as rotten as you let on.” 

There was an ache in his chest he decided to ignore and his lips lilted in a weak smirk. “Keep my secret, Granger.” He turned again, tucking his chin as he trotted down the stairs. 

Although the night had started off as pure rubbish, it was ending with Hermione Granger not thinking he was all that bad. He could do worse, he mused. 

xXx

**A/N: Thanks again to MCal for her Alpha love and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Be back soon with more and would love to know what you think! Please forgive my confetti commas, this is unbeta’d.**

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Feet dangling over the edge of her armchair, Hermione found herself fully engrossed in the tome laid open on her lap. Theo was there, sitting at her feet with his nose pressed between the pages of his own book. 

“Hey,” he muttered over his shoulder, lifting his book high. “What’s this rune?”

She hummed, tearing her gaze away and quickly scanning the page. “Daggaz and Munnuz. Probably means—” she paused, her face scrunching to one side as she thought, “prosperity through change.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate Ancient Runes?” 

“Yes. Sugar Quill, please.” Absently, Theo stuck his hand in her bag and procured two sweets, offering her one and quickly unwrapping his own. “Ack! Give me yours, I hate blue.” 

Theo’s gaze snapped over his shoulder, his brow wrinkled in annoyance. “Then why did you  _ buy _ blue?” 

“Shut up and give me yours,” she deadpanned, ignoring the shameful blush coming to life on her cheeks. Truth was, she  _ did _ hate that flavor, but it seemed that Draco Malfoy got surprisingly  _ more _ annoying when he was peckish and it was always best to have something around to remedy the issue. Somewhere around the beginning of the year, she noticed his proclivity for the disgusting blue sweets and so, begrudgingly, she stocked up whenever she made a run to Honeydukes. 

They quickly traded and Hermione popped the purple lolly between her lips, sucking softly as she continued reading, completely unaware of the figure lurking in the stacks nearby. That is until he abruptly cleared his throat and stepped from the shadows, causing Hermione to shriek and drop her sweet in the crease of her book. 

Grimacing as the paper stuck to its paper, her narrowed glare shot up to the offender.  _ Of course, _ it was Malfoy. 

“You ruined my book!” 

Rolling his eyes, he stepped further into the clearing, adjusting the strap of his bag and dutifully ignoring Theo at her feet. “Sure, I did. I need to talk to you.” 

“Is something wrong?” Hermione closed the cover of her book, sandwiching her destroyed Sugar Quill in its spine. 

With a long, exaggerated sigh, Malfoy ran his hand down his face. “Granger, when will you learn that I don’t just wander this castle looking for excuses to talk to you? If I come looking for you, it’s probably because there is something important to discuss.” 

On his very best day, Draco Malfoy was an irritable git; this, however, was a new level of prat. Last night he’d been almost pleasant and something awful must have happened in the past twelve hours to earn her this kind of greeting. 

Under her, Theo made a soft puckering noise as he popped his blue quill between his lips, a smirk playing on his mouth as he stared up at Malfoy. “Afternoon, mate.” 

Lip curling, Draco deigned a narrowed glance down at him. “I’m not your mate, you fucking—”

“Malfoy!” Hermione jumped to her feet, sidestepping Theo who was cackling from his place on the ground. “I’ll be right back, Theo.” Snatching the Head Boy’s elbow, she quickly dragged him away and into the stacks. 

“Hurry back, love!” 

Blushing she pushed Draco between the aisles and huffed out an indignant breath. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

“ _ Wrong with me?  _ That’s rich, Granger. Truly.” 

“Did I do something? I actually thought we’d gotten along last night and now you’re being—” 

“You didn’t do anything. Just—” Draco groaned, his features pinching tightly. “Never mind.” 

“You’re acting like I did something and I’ve already told you if  _ you _ wanted to call off the bet, you only need say so.”

He began pacing, his cheeks darkening as he clenched his jaw tight. “No.”

“Well, was there something you needed to tell me? Other than showing up to insult my boyfr—”

“Stop calling him that!” His voice edged to a decibel that Hermione was very quickly on the verge of admonishing him for, but she didn’t get the chance. He growled and stormed off, muttering something intelligible as he disappeared. 

With an ache in her belly and a sag to her shoulders, Hermione returned to the nook where Theo was waiting for her. 

“How is Hogwart’s resident prat doing today?” Theo mused, eyes never leaving his book. 

Hermione didn’t answer at first, instead falling into her spot with a soft huff. “Why don’t you like him?” she asked after a long moment. 

Shrugging, Theo crunched through the tip of his Sugar Quill. “What’s to like? He’s always walked around like this place like he owned it; only showing interest in someone when it serves him to do so. I could forgive him for the mess with the war… I know better than most what it’s like to have a jackarse for a father.” Theo paused, turning in his spot to look up at her in earnest. “But, just because I don’t like him, doesn’t mean you can’t. I’ll still help you.” 

Hermione bristled. “And why do you keep getting this impression that I like Malfoy?”

“Don’t you?” His brow arched in an almost condescending way.

Gnawing on her lip, Hermione considered the too-simple question. 

She couldn’t like Draco Malfoy, he was all the things Theo had just said and so much more. He was frustrating and incorrigible and— _ no, _ she couldn’t like him. 

_ She couldn’t. _

xXx

Everything was getting far too confusing. The silly witch was stealing the rational thought from his brain.

Merlin, he hadn’t even discussed the issue with the fifth years dropping like flies to the Black Cat Flu, like he’d intended. He’d let that sodding prick get the best of him and no one bested Draco Malfoy.  _ No one.  _

What was perhaps even  _ more _ frustrating was that Granger seemed to like the arsehole. As it were, Draco had noticed over the months that she’d taken a habit of always having blue sugar quills in her bag, even though he was quite positive she hated them. So during their Head meetings, whenever she’d pull one out for herself, she’d silently offer him one as well. Always blue—his favourite. 

And then, there Theo-bleeding-Nott had been, sucking on  _ his _ Sugar Quill. The edges of his vision turned red and he stormed down the hall, beelining for the Dungeons and the Hufflepuff common room. 

xXx

So, after some consideration, it seemed she liked Draco Malfoy. 

It had been a painstaking process of coming to terms with such a ridiculous notion but now that she’d decided on it, she had to go off and bloody  _ do _ something about it. 

As with all her endeavors, she first formulated a plan. 

The first step would be to call off this ridiculous bet and explain that her and Theo were not actually romantically involved. 

The second, and most terrifying, would be to ask Malfoy to attend the Yule Ball as her escort. Every time she thought of it, bile roiled in her stomach and her vision waned. 

Marching down the stairs to the dungeon with her head held high, she rehearsed her speech again and again and  _ again. _ A part of her knew that he had to have felt it too; there’d been something about him these past few days that reassured her that whatever she was feeling, she wasn’t alone. 

Anxiety transformed into excitement as she considered the possibilities of  _ them. _ It’d be easy to say they were polar opposites, but Hermione knew that wasn’t true. If she were being honest, they often came to blows because of how dreadfully similar they were. Stubborn and steadfast, too clever for their own good.

Rounding the corner and biting down on a smile that threatened to split her lips, she froze mid-step, her heart plummeting to the depths of her stomach. 

There was a bench outside the Potions classroom, a bench she’d sat on and stewed over the complete unfairness of Professor Snape in years past, but now it was occupied. 

Occupied by a certain blond wizard and his busty Hufflepuff perched precariously on his knee. Their limbs were tangled, surrounded by a few classmates and noticeably, Blaise Zabini. 

On any given day she might not pause, but today she did, and she especially noticed the way his hand rested on Bea’s hip. Hermione felt it like a punch to her gut and she gasped, the sound reverberating down the stone hall. Fat tears welled in the corner of her eyes and she quickly turned on her heel, darting back the way she’d come. 

She’d almost been free; almost far enough away that she could slink into an alcove and cry her little broken teenage heart out when she heard the footsteps. 

_ “Granger!”  _ His voice carried the telltale signs of his anger and although she felt wholly gutted, she reeled on him, eyes dancing with misplaced rage. 

_ “What!”  _

He cocked back, perhaps shocked at her tone, but she didn’t give a shite. Who was he to go around making girls think he liked them and then snogging little twits like Bea-bloody-Beaucomb? It was detestable. Deplorable, even. 

He withered, a snort rumbling from his nasal passages. “Did you forget to rotate that broomstick you’ve got shoved up your arse? What’s the problem?” 

“ _ You _ are my problem, Malfoy.” She marched towards him, shoving her pointer finger into his sternum. “ _ You  _ are always my problem! For eight bloody years,  _ you’ve _ been my problem!” Tears began flowing freely over her cheeks and she banished them with the back of her hand in a vain attempt to maintain her dignity. 

“Brilliant! Always me, right? How bloody typical of you—” Snarling, he walked up to the wall and fell against it, an arrogant turn of his mouth as he waited for her to come back at him. He didn’t have to wait long. 

“You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. Did you know that?” 

He shrugged, examining his nail beds as if tiny diamonds lay embedded in his cuticles.

Growling, she continued. “And you’re disgusting! Snogging Bea Beaucomb like that! And in public!” 

His graphite glare shot up to her and he stared at her with no trace of amusement. “First, I didn’t bloody snog her and second, this from the girl trading saliva with Theo Nott at the Three Broomsticks.” 

“Th- _ that’s different _ !” Her vision twinged crimson and against her volition she was crossing the space towards him, ready to poke him in the chest again. “You were—” 

So suddenly she hadn’t a chance to make right of it, she was twirled, back hard against the cold stone wall. Malfoy’s hands rested near the sides of her head as he loomed over her. She inhaled so sharply that the world seemed to glitch, turning hazy at his sudden proximity. 

“Do you have something you came down here to say? Cause if you do, I’d speak it plainly.” 

She couldn’t make sense of the energy in the moment, it was desperate and vengeful and full of anger or something just like it. With each passing moment, her eyes flitted across his face before finally landing on his lips and the way they hovered just inches from hers. 

Merlin, she wanted to  _ taste _ him—need to confirm that his lips would have traces of spearmint and blue Sugar Quills. She wanted to wrap herself around him and snog him until they were breathless but— _ but— _

“Oi! Malfoy!” A familiar voice echoed down the hall and too soon, Malfoy left her space, leaving her panting and flushed in his wake. Zabini appeared, eyeing the situation with little interest before nodding to his classmate. “You coming?” 

Malfoy turned towards her, brows arched high and he waited for two heartbeats before he turned back towards the Slytherin dormitory. “See you around, Granger.” 

Disappointment and longing mixed dangerously in her belly and with all the remaining strength left in her weary bones, she climbed the stairs back towards Gryffindor Tower. 

xXx

**A/N: I know, I know. It’s all horribly cliche and tropey and overdone lol but I’ve been writing some darker stuff lately and needed to visit some teenage angst.**

**This is unbeta’d and I’m shit at self-editing so please excuse the errors. It was looked over by my sweet MCal and I’m grateful forever for your time!**

**I hope you enjoyed it! I believe this will be 6 chapters!**

**If you’re not busy tonight (2/8/20) around 9pm EST head on over to our podcast page Wine, Wands, and Waffling and chat with Frumpologist and I! We’ll be going live and answering all your questions and I’m slightly horrified at some of them that came through lol**

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**Thank you for reading!! I’ll be back soon!**

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“I don’t really feel like going.” Hermione’s voice was muffled by her pillow as she whined. 

“ _ You’re going. _ It’s the last of the term and you’re going.” A soft pile of clothes landed on Hermione’s back as Ginny lofted garments her way. 

Truthfully, Hermione could think of nothing she’d rather do  _ less _ . Parties were never really her forte, and she was far from the Christmas spirit now, not to mention her throat was feeling rather... _ scratchy _ . On top of it all, her row with Malfoy had left her in an exceptionally bad mood. 

When she turned and saw the blouse Ginny had chucked her, she nearly choked on her own saliva. “Ginny, you’re fucking mad. I’ll wear a jumper.” 

“You are not wearing a bloody  _ jumper _ , Granger. Get that adorable arse up—the Puffs await.” 

xXx

The party was alright, certainly not the worst party Draco had ever been to and the fizzing red drink was spectacular—not that he’d admit to such things. 

Blaise was prattling on and Goyle was already fucking wasted; Draco’d give it fifteen more minutes then he was gone. 

Who the hell did Nott think he was, anyway? The conversation seeped into the rest of the evening and glowering, he drained the rest of his drink and filled his cup with another. Where did he get off thinking that Draco had a thing for Gr—

The fizzing bubbles caught in the back of his throat and he hacked and sputtered violently as the object of his dismay sauntered into the Hufflepuff Common Room and everything else in the bleeding world ceased to exist. She was wearing—well, Merlin, the witch was wearing something black and sparkly and he could see her bloody collarbone. It was obscene. 

Sure, every witch in here was wearing something decidedly  _ less _ , but  _ they _ weren’t Granger. 

As his coughing ceased, he craned to see around a group of witches to see her again. She looked fit, more than fit, really. 

“Your positively  _ drooling _ , Malfoy,” Blaise crooned, his sly mocking voice causing Draco to sneer even as his arm wound around his neck. 

“Piss off,” he spat, shoving his friend away.

Just then, Theo appeared, stealing a kiss from the witch in question and Draco’s lip curled.

“I  _ hate _ Theodore Nott.” 

Blaise barked out a laugh. “You didn’t seem to much care either way about him until about two weeks ago when he started shagging Granger. Curious, isn’t it?”

Draco bristled at the implication that Granger had spread her thighs for Nott of all bleeding people.“Quite.” 

When Nott dipped his mouth next to her ear, arm wound tightly around her waist, Granger laughed and her gaze flickered over to where Draco stood. 

His heart leapt in his chest when her cheeks darkened. 

And then, just like that, he realized the painful truth: he’d gone and fallen for Hermione Granger. 

xXx

“He’s looking again.” Theo smirked, a dimple appearing on his left cheek. 

Heat climbed up her neck and she shook her head. “And I told you, he seemed clearly chuffed to spend his time Bea.” 

Despite the way she willed herself to stay locked on Theo, her gaze drifted.  _ To him.  _ To him, with his infuriatingly handsome face—that was at the moment twisted into a pained grimace. Her breath hitched and her skin felt all at once fevered.

“Hermione, let’s make the rounds  _ before _ you swap spit with Nott. I want to get some to grab some refreshments before they’re gone.” 

Nodding, Hermione was tugged from Theo’s side and they were soon weaving through the crowd that had gathered in the Hufflepuff common room. 

The fizzy red drink was delightful, as were the cauldron cakes and the chocolate tarts. Soon, Hermione was laughing in close quarters with Ginny and Luna, sucking chocolate frosting off her pointer finger. She’d been so lost in a good time that she’d nearly forgotten about the snakes slithering around the room. 

“Granger.” His low drawl halted their laughter and all three of them turned slowly in the direction of the newcomer. “I need to speak to you in the corridor—head’s business.” 

Ginny snorted, her lips curling in a mocking smirk. “Both heads are at a party; what on earth could you be chastising someone else for?”

Hermione clucked her tongue at her friend, feeling all at once queasy, before turning to follow Malfoy through the party. A younger student bumped into her, causing her to stumble and while Draco pulled a face, he opened his body towards her, his hand coming down to rest on her lower back. 

Merlin, his hand was too hot, searing through her blouse as he guided her forward. All she could think about was the way he felt pressed up against her and the way her skin flushed even now.

This party could cause claustrophobia in the most brazen of Gryffindors and as they stumbled through the door and into the chill of the corridor, Hermione shivered. Her blouse wasn’t conducive to such temperatures and though Malfoy had already begun his anxious pacing, she felt the shroud of a warming charm fall over her. 

“What’s happened?” Clearly by his state, something was actually wrong and she bristled as she watched him, his finger waving through the air as he silently rehearsed his speech. “Malfoy!” He stopped, turning towards her sharply. “What on earth is wrong?”

“I don’t want you dating Nott. He’s a prick.” 

A sharp, disbelieving huff shot past her lips and she groaned. “Did you really call me out here because of this? Where’s your date, anyway?” Jealousy curled unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. 

“I don’t have a date. Told her I was done with her ridiculousness earlier this evening, I’ll have you know.” Tilting his chin in the air as if he’d somehow done her a favor. 

_ “Bea?” _ Hermione’s brow arched and her lips came into a tight purse. “You guys looked awfully cozy earlier if I remember correctly. Funny how quickly things change.” 

“Fuck, Granger. What exactly do you want from me here? You set me up with the twit and I had to make her think I liked her—which I did. I can’t help it she sat in my lap? What would you have had me done? Stand up and dump her on the floor?”

Hermione grumbled under her breath, a barely audible, “yes” in the midst of her displeasure, another shiver inching it’s way over her spine.

“I don’t want you to date, Nott.” 

“Well, I don’t want you to date, Bea-bloody-Beaucomb.” 

“Fine!” 

_ “Fine!”  _

Malfoy growled and his pacing resumed as he dragged a hand through his hair. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“Yeah? Well you’re completely intolerable. If I’d have known you were going to be completely inappropriate during this ridiculous bet, I’d have never set you up with someone like Bea.”

“Inappropriate?” Draco deadpanned, his features wilting into a sneer. 

“Yes! All of your—well, your…  _ canoodling _ ! It’s not proper.” 

“Theo Nott has had his tongue in your mouth, Granger. I hardly think canoodling —whatever the bloody hell that is—can be considered inappropriate.” 

“What is your problem with Theo? He’s perfectly—” 

_ “I don’t like him! _ ”

“Alright… but so what if you don’t? If I do what’s the problem?”

Malfoy’s cheeks darkened and he halted, reeling on her with a glower.  _ “The problem is _ —” But he stopped, swallowing the words that were just barely about to push past his lips. Everything about him seemed to sag, his features transforming slowly. “The problem is nothing. I just want out of the bet, Granger. Make me do whatever duties you want—I’m done.” 

Before she could stop him, he turned on his heel and stormed off and around the corner. She was about to give up, to relent and return to the party and her friend’s company, but something inside her snapped. 

xXx

Fine. Granger was into Nott. Draco had made his proverbial bed and would sleep in it.  _ Alone. _

That was that. Whatever bloody feelings had up and sprouted could presently wither and die. After all, if he was forced to look at the situation as it were, Theo was the better choice. He was calm and quiet, not hot-tempered and mean-spirited, not to mention an ex-death eater. Theo would probably listen to her ramblings in the library with more dutiful attention than Draco ever prayed to possess. And  _ Theo _ wouldn’t tarnish the golden girl’s reputation by being seen on her arm. So, he supposed, that was that. 

“ _ MALFOY!” _ His name rang clear down the hall, reverberating over his skin and his hackles rising at the sound of the witch of his bleeding nightmares howling after him. He froze mid-step— _ waiting.  _ The sound of her heavy-footed stomp made his lip curl and he turned slowly. 

“You bellowed, Granger?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Huffing, she stopped short in front of him, cheeks flushed bright pink and eyes dancing in what appeared to be wild rage. But then her gaze drifted to his lips and he foolishly allowed himself room to hope. Sucking in a hard inhale, he remained otherwise silent.  _ Still waiting. _ “I’m sick of you storming off when I’m not finished with you.” 

“Well, then you need to stop doing shite that makes me—“ 

Whatever words he’d been about to speak had been smothered by her lips, her fingers curling in his jumper as she lifted onto her toes and kissed him firmly— _ insistently _ . His thoughts quickly vanished as a hum slipped from her lips and—Merlin, he was kissing Hermione Granger. 

Well, as it stood, Hermione Granger was kissing him and he quickly set to rectify the issue at hand. His hands rose to cradle her jaw, burying his fingers in her riotous curls and he fervently— _ no,  _ reverently—kissed her in return. 

This was what drowning felt like; not a violent fight for his life, but one in which he had completely and utterly succumbed to his fate: sinking, letting go of everything he’d been pushing against. 

Too soon, she broke the kiss off and they were both panting, sucking in greedy breaths as their noses bumped together. He thought maybe she’d seen reason, perhaps realized the error in her ways and thus decided to hex his bollocks from his person once and for all, but—it was something else entirely. 

Her eyes were a bit glassy, her lashes fluttering.

“I’m—” She swooned a bit, melting into him. “I’m too hot.” 

With a furrowed brow he studied her more closely. Under different circumstances, the words  _ I’m too hot _ would mean something entirely different for Draco but given her rather strange disposition, he had a feeling it meant something else. Cradling her cheek, he inhaled sharply. “Granger, you’re burning up. Are you ill?”

She sniffed, nose wrinkling as her weight dipped a bit. “Absolutely not. I don’t get sick. I’m just a little warm… and dizzy… and my throat feels rather tight.” 

Of course, the bloody witch was sick. Had she not been so intent on snogging Theo Nott she’d have heard his many warning about the Black Cat Flu. 

“I think —”  She paused to cough. “I just need to sit down a minute.” But then, her body went limp and he rushed to scoop her in his arms before she collided with the dungeon floor. 

And so, for the second time, Draco Malfoy was responsible for carrying this impossible witch to the infirmary. 

xXx

Hermione woke with a splitting headache, the light pouring in through the infirmary windows nearly blinding her. Everything ached, even her very skin, and she rolled onto her side in a vain attempt to avoid the sun, only to find a blond prat snoozing in the chair by her bed. 

She thought she might wake him, but her fever seemed intent to pull her under again. Lashes fluttering, her vision waned and turned dark and she fell back asleep.

xXx

Nott. 

The stupid prat had the audacity— _ the audacity _ — to walk through this door like… well, like he had any right to at all. Which as far as Draco was concerned, he did not. Yet, still, here he strolled, ugly fucking face and a book in hand. Although, Nott did give Draco the extreme pleasure of gawking at the sight of him at her bedside.

“What are  _ you _ doing here, Malfoy?” Theo returned to his jaunty fucking stride, coming up to the bedside and brushing a curl off Granger’s temple. 

A growl rumbled deep in Draco’s chest before he remembered a fun detail he could bestow upon his newest nemesis. “I’m here because after we were done snogging last night, Granger fainted. I can’t say it’s  _ because _ of my expertise at snogging witches, but it’s quite possible.” 

With a watery snort and a roll of his eyes, Theo sat at her bedside. “Or because she has Black Cat Flu, you wanker.”

Well, he’d certainly not been expecting Nott to be so fucking blase about the fact that his witch had been kissing Draco the night before, and the fact that he seemed so unaffected only served to rile Draco further. 

“Did you not hear me? I said I was snogging—”

Theo lifted his slender fingers in the air and waved him off. “I heard you, Malfoy. Are you so stupid you haven’t picked up yet that I’m not into witches? Why on earth would I tell you that you were making a mistake with Granger if I actually wanted to keep her all to myself? For being such a smart bloke, I have to say, you’re fucking dense.”

The confession slammed into Draco and he blinked several times as he tried to make sense of the words. Nott  _ didn’t _ like witches; he  _ didn’t  _ like Hermione Granger. Which meant that not only did Nott perhaps like the attention of wizards instead, but also that the pair of them had been fucking cheating on the wager while Draco had been forced into Bea Beaucomb’s blithering company. 

“You  _ knew _ ? That’s not fair!” Draco’s voice began inching up octave by octave and he was only silenced when Pomfrey stuck her frizzy grey head out and  _ shhh _ ’d him with a pinched expression. 

Theo shrugged, only then deeming Draco’s existence worthy of a glance. “Did you state in the rules that the other person couldn’t be aware of the arrangement?” 

What a fucking prat.  _ Of course, _ that’d been in the rules but just as his jaw fell open ready to rip the dolt a new one, he realized they hadn’t  _ precisely _ specified such a clause and his eyes widened into saucers. “Well it was implied!” he finally spat after a moment of fraught silence. 

Rolling his eyes, Theo sighed and returned his attention to Granger. “Implied rules don’t count to proper Slytherin’s or Gryffindors. All’s fair in love and wagers, ay mate?”

Draco wanted to be furious, it was the most natural progression of his ire, but he couldn’t bring himself there. Because as much as he had detested every bloody minute spent in Bea’s company, this turn of events meant that Granger had  _ not _ been dating—or sleeping—with Nott, and for that, he sighed in relief. 

“Why don’t you go and shower and rest?” Theo offered. “I’ll stay with her until you get back.” 

“I’m not leaving her with—” 

With a loud groan, Theo reeled on him. “Do you think maybe you could stop being so bloody combative? It’d sure make the rest of the term, or however long Granger decides to keep you in her good graces, a lot easier on me. We’re friends, her and I, and I have no inclination to stop being friends with her. So the sooner you stop making everything so bloody impossible, the better.” 

Draco was... _ speechless. _ Which was not something that he often was, nor did he care for it. And he would fight Nott more on the subject if he weren’t so tired and in desperate need of washing the germs of spending a night in the infirmary from his skin. 

And despite the fact that Theo had kissed his witch, he was right. Draco had really made a mess of it all by putting Theo and Granger in such close-knit quarters, but it seemed rather unavoidable now. So, for as long as he was yoked to Granger, he would also be yoked to Nott as well. 

_ Joy.  _

“I’ll be back in two hours.” The disdain for Nott’s very existence waned and he lifted his bag onto his shoulder, sparing a final glance at Granger’s relaxed features and sweaty forehead, before making to leave the hospital wing. He’d made it a handful of steps before turning back. “Oi! You could have told me you preferred wizards! I’ve changed in front of you!” 

Theo choked on either a gag or a laugh and shook his head. “Please, Malfoy, don’t flatter yourself. Bony blondes are the furthest from my type. I’d rather shag Granger than look at your tiny—”

Draco’s hands flew up as if he could swat Theo’s words from the air and he turned sharply on his heel to storm from the infirmary, ignoring the snickering coming from the Slytherin left behind. 

xXx

**A/N: Well! Just one last chappie to finish up this story coming in soon! Thanks for joining me on this teenage silliness! Mwah mwah!**

**As ever, this is unbeta’d, please forgive the horrendous errors. I’m a dodo at best. Thanks to MCal for her Alpha eyes and giving this a once over before it came your way!**

**Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

Smoothing her palms down the smooth navy satin of her gown, Hermione appraised herself a final time. She’d kept it rather simple, a few pins in her riotous curls and a simple, if not elegant, floor-length gown. 

After almost a week in the infirmary, Hermione was finally on the mend. That had left most of the Yule planning duties to Malfoy and nothing terrified her more. She was quite certain she was going to walk into a bare hall with a dingy tree in the corner and a record playing a single song on repeat. 

Pinching her cheeks, she turned for the door or her private dorm and began winding her way through the castle. Her date was waiting at the end of the stairs with his back turned, but even from here she could make out the meticulous tailoring of his suit. All these years and she’d never noticed just how handsome and thoughtful he could really be and now that she had, she had no intention of letting him go. 

As she reached the final steps, he turned, chestnut hair perfectly parted and styled, a smile on his thin lips. Theo’s hand came up, clutching at his heart as though he was suffering and she rolled her eyes in response as she came to stand by his side. 

“You know, of all the ways I thought this year might end up, showing up to the Yule Ball on the arm of Hermione Granger, just wasn’t one of them.” 

She hummed, a knowing smile playing on the corner of her lips as she wound her arm around his and they worked their way towards the looming doors of the Great Hall. Once inside, the air was dragged from her lungs. Thick garlands of emerald and crimson hung on the walls, the tables dressed in ivory and gold. Around the room were dozens of full Christmas trees, large baubles and fairy lights tucked into its branches. 

It was far lovelier than she remembered it being in Christmas’ past and she couldn’t help the grin that worked it’s way over her features at the thought that Malfoy must have put into this. 

“Malfoy didn’t do a half-bad job in your absence,” Theo admitted begrudgingly. 

“Agreed. It’s a pity I won’t get to enjoy it…” her voice trailed off as she stretched onto her toes, neck-craning around the party goers until she found the one she’d been looking for. 

With a snort, Theo tugged her closer. “And why on earth is that? You’re not ditching me for Malfoy, are you?”

Once she’d caught the emerald gaze of her best friend standing near a table in the corner and looking like a sore thumb, she waved excitedly and began dragging Theo along. 

“Rowena’s rack, Granger. What on earth have you done,” Theo hissed in her ear, the heels of expensive shoes attempting to dig into the stone floor. “Tell me that’s not Harry-bleeding-Potter.”

As her attempt to pull him along became less and less effective, she stopped, huffing. “Of course it is! You said you fancied him!”

“I said I fancied the  _ idea _ of him more than I fancied the idea of shagging you!” His voice fell into a low admonishment but Hermione could see the nerves threatening to pull her newfound friend under. “I don’t—I’ve never…”

Turning to block his view of the Boy-who-lived, Hermione brought a gentle hand up to Theo’s cheek. “I told Harry he was coming here to spend the evening with  _ you.  _ It’s not a trick; he’s not here under false pretenses. He got special clearance from McGonagall and everything; he was excited to meet you.” 

The blood drained from Theo’s face, his head cocking back as though Hermione had just offended his entire familial line.  _ “He did? _ Merlin, why on earth would he do such a thing?” 

“I  _ think _ ,” Hermione edged, nudging his slight frame with her elbow, “that Mr. Potter fancies the idea of you as well. He mentioned you were quite fit.” 

“Fit?” Theo’s features twisted and she noticed the way the apples of his cheeks had darkened. “That seems an exaggeration.” 

“You think? Ask him yourself.” She shrugged. “You’ll find Gryffindors to be a little more forthcoming with their intentions than you sneaky lot.” 

Just then, Harry arrived at her side, hands shoved in his trouser pockets with a sheepish smile. “Hello, Hermione.” 

“Hi, Harry.” Hermione leaned over to brush her lips along his cheekbone and then turned to her date. “Harry this is Theo Nott, my friend, and your date for the evening.”

Theo was adorably and utterly speechless, his lips attempting to form words that his brain couldn’t compute. Lucky for him, Harry wasn’t quite as bashful. 

“Harry Potter, how do you do?”

The simple greeting disarmed Theo and his features fell. “Well, I’m pretty sure everyone in the entire Wizarding world knows you, mate. But hello, Theo Nott and I do just fine.” 

While the two of them made eyes at each other, Hermione grinned between them. “I hope you boys have a lovely night!”

“And you?” Harry said, finally tearing his gaze from Theo’s. “What’ll you be up to then?”

“I have to make the rounds and make sure that at least  _ all _ my prefects aren’t drunk or well on their way, and then,” she paused, chewing on her bottom lip, “I have a date.” 

xXx

He’d said it once but it deigned worth repeating:  _ the audacity. _

The absolute and utter audacity of Hermione Granger attending the Yule with that fool after everything he’d done… everything he’d been through. 

The entire ordeal set his blood on fire; that paired with the burning fever coursing through his veins because that  _ witch _ had snogged him minutes before succumbing to the Black Cat Flu left him in quite an irritable state. 

And now she was downstairs, twirling in that arseholes arms in the most romantic setting Draco could dream up? He growled as he settled deeper into his pillows, a petulant pout pulling on his lips. 

Just as he was quite seriously considering leaving the confines of his bed and the safety of the infirmary, donning his best pair of dress robes and marching into that hall to claim said witch, the door creaked open. 

There, in a stunning navy dress, was Hermione Granger. She had an excited smile, her finger pressed to her lips as if to shush him and for the briefest of moments, he felt marginally better. Holding a bag in one hand and her heels in the other, she quickly padded across the empty cots and to his side, Madame Pomfrey none the wiser as she tugged his curtain closed. 

“Hi,” she whispered. 

Draco remained obstinately quiet, his brows puckered in his indignation that she would dare show her face here at all. 

“Oh, don’t be such a sore loser.” Rolling her eyes, she pulled her wand free and muttered a few silencing spells and then took a seat on the edge of his bed. “Did you honestly think I wasn’t going to win the bet?”

“Seriously?” he deadpanned, the word coming out like a choked croak. “You gave me the plague and went on the date just to win a bet? A bet I called off a week ago?” 

A delicious bubble of a laugh burst past her lips and she smothered it with her palm. “Well, the plague wasn’t intentional, just a delightful bonus. And the wager was never about winning, not like I’d let you take over duties for me anyhow; it was about principle.” 

His eyes narrowed. “And what principle is that, Granger?”

“That I know you infinitely better and what drives you mad; not to mention, that you are nowhere near as superior at mind games as I am.” Draco’s jaw fell open; the witch was certifiable. “Besides, since you are holed up on your arse, one of us had to make sure the ball got off without a hitch. Which it did—you did a wonderful job, Draco.” 

The use of his given name paired with that ever-elusive compliment from Granger’s lips caused a smile to fight its way onto his lips and he stubbornly fought it off by huffing and sinking further onto his cot. “Thanks,” he grumbled, setting his sights firmly straight ahead and not on the delicate strap of her dress. 

“So, since Theo is now safely in the arms of Harry, the ball is in capable hands, and the wager won, I thought I might stay with you awhile. That is if you decide to drop your icy exterior because it’s rather unbecoming.” 

Draco weighed his options carefully. He could indeed thaw some of his glacial disposition and accept the witch’s offer, or he could remain alone in this dreadful infirmary fighting a fever while she danced the night away. For being the selfish git he was, the choice was rather simple. 

“Well,” he said from the corner of his mouth, gaze twitching back towards her. “I’m not very good company when I’m sick. This is about as pleasant as I can get.” 

A laugh wrinkled her nose and she stood. “I figured as much.” 

In movements far too fast for Draco to make sense of, she stood, lifting the thin straps of her gown from her shoulder and slid them off, the sapphire fabric pooling at her bare feet. She was left in naught but a pair of lacy knickers and a bra without the proper straps and in that fleeting moment, Draco was sure he’d died. His cock twitched in his sleep trousers and he groaned from the full-body ache of his fever rejecting the idea of an erection entirely. 

Eyes wide and nearly popping from his skull, Draco fumbled on the bed to sit up straighter, wincing at the effort. “Gr-Granger…” 

“Well, I’m not going to lie in next to you in a ball gown.” Rolling her eyes, she reached down for her bag and pulled free a set of sleep shorts and a tank top, wiggling them on her body as Draco watched in awe, his jaw still gaping. “There, better. Now, scooch.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“A scooch.” 

Her hands fell onto her hips, her foot turning out and she gestured to the bed. “Merlin, move the hell over! Let me in!” 

Scrambling, he obeyed, reveling at the feeling of him sliding in next to her and curling around his aching body. His skin hurt a bit, but he dared not say a word as she threw an arm over his torso and rested her head on his shoulder. It was nice—more than nice, really—and he felt his entire body sink into her. 

She splayed her fingers over his chest, their breaths syncing as they laid in the quiet. “You’d really rather be up here with me than down at the last Yule Ball?” 

Humming, she nodded and tilted her face up to his. “I would much rather be here with you, surprisingly enough. You’re not half as bad as you’d have people believe and while you throw one hell of a party, I already find you to be an infinitely better cuddler. When was the last time Pomfrey made rounds?” 

“Maybe twenty minutes ago?” 

“Perfect, we’ve got a while then.” She shimmied further into his side and instinctually he curled his arm around her waist, tugging the blanket up around them. 

Granger’s hand came up to rest on his cheek as she moved to kiss him and he swiftly pulled back. “You’ll get sick,” he chastised, his brow knitting.

Clucking her tongue, she pressed onward until her lips were hovering over his. “I’m the one that got you sick, silly. Besides, it’d be worth it.” Then, she was kissing him, fingers trailing his jaw as her lips moved softly over his. When she pulled back, resting her head again on his chest, he felt that for the first time in a long time, his luck was starting to change… and all thanks to Theo-bleeding-Nott. 

Would wonders never cease?

xXx

**A/N: Ah! I wanted to have this up this weekend but alas, life, love, and hangovers got the best of me. Thanks for joining me on this silly little story! It was fun to lighten things up for a bit and I always appreciate you guys reading! Especially when it’s unbeta’d and Valentine’s day just dumped a hundred wonderful stories on your lap!**

**I’m sorry if I’m remiss in responding to your reviews! I am trying to get better but it depends on the day it seems. I do read and covet each and every one!**

**If you want to chat with me join the Dramione discord server for my AMA this weekend!**

**Until next time!**

**LK**

  
  
  



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